Etched in Silver: An Otherworld Novella (3 page)

Blushing, I slammed down my drink and stood. I leaned close and whispered, “You might like to play with pussycats, but you’re not getting near mine. Not unless you can give me a damned good reason.”

As I started for the door he reached out and lightly placed two fingers on my arm, not holding me, just ever-so-slightly touching. A ripple raced through my body. I grabbed for the counter, steadying myself as he swung in behind me and rested a hand on my side—tracing the curve of my waist with the lightest of pressure.

“Leaving so soon, beautiful?” he whispered, leaning close to my ear. “I was just starting to enjoy myself. I don’t often meet women who can hold their own. I hope you aren’t offended that I interfered in your tête-à-tête back there. I have no doubt you would have taken that idiot down alone, but I can’t stand louts. They offend my senses.”

The breath from his lips washed over my neck and I pressed my thighs together. I’d met plenty of gorgeous Fae over the years—hell, I was half-Fae myself and knew how to use glamour, but this was more than glamour. This was like being swept out to sea by a riptide of hunger. I wanted to strip naked and throw him down on the counter.

“Camille? Can I speak to you?
Alone
.” Jahn set a snifter of brandy on the counter. “Here’s your brandy. Why don’t you let the lady go?”

Without missing a beat, the dark man said, “Mind your business, barkeep. She’s a grown woman. She’ll tell me if she wants me to leave her alone.”

I didn’t move.

“Camille,
please
, I need to talk to you.” Jahn gave me a strained look and I reluctantly broke away. In a fog, I followed him to the end of the counter.

“That’s the man who helped me out. Do you know him?”

“Oh, lovely.” Jahn narrowed his eyes. “Not by name, but he’s a Svartan. Surely you know what that means, girl.”

I frowned, thinking for a moment, then understanding broke through. A
Svartan
. . . one of the
Charming
Fae, as cunning in nature as they are sexual. As predatory as they are suave.

“I didn’t realize . . .” I glanced back at the man, who raised his snifter in salute, then took a long, slow sip.

Jahn let out a little groan. “Girl, promise me you aren’t going to sleep with him. Please? Even if you don’t sleep with me, for the love of the gods, do
not
get mixed up with the likes of him.”

I listened to what he was saying. I really did. But the entire time, my gaze was fastened on the Svartan. After a moment, I let out a little sigh. Roche wasn’t here and he wasn’t going to come. Not tonight. Another wild-goose chase. Another black mark against my name.

“I think I’d better go home for the night,” I said, feeling defeated. “Thank you, Jahn, for everything.”

As I gathered my purse and turned to go, I realized that I couldn’t just leave it at that. Feeling Jahn’s disapproving stare follow me, I walked back to the Svartan and deliberately laid one hand on his arm.

He glanced down at my hand, then up to meet my eyes. “Yes?”

“Camille te Maria. I’m in here a lot. Next time—and I trust there
will
be a next time—ask before you intervene.” I sauntered toward the curtains cordoning off the exit, then paused in midstep to call over my shoulder. “Remember, stranger. You still owe me your name.”

As I swept out the door, I could feel him watching me. But I didn’t look back.

 

“WHAT do you know about the Svartans?” I asked my father that evening after dinner.

Sephreh ob Tanu jerked his head up from where he was polishing his dress sword, his brow lined, a worried look in his eyes. They reflected the violet of my own, and his hair was the same color as mine—raven black and woven in a shoulder-length braid. I took after him. My sister Delilah took after our mother—golden-haired and tanned, and Menolly . . . well, no one knew where her burnished copper locks came from.

“What have you gone and done now?” He sounded positively overjoyed.
Not
.

I shrugged. Father was cagey. I’d have to walk softly because I could already sense the storm brewing in his voice.

“I saw one in the club tonight.” With a little luck, Jahn wouldn’t breathe a word to Father about my interaction with Tall, Dark, and Dangerous. He’d keep his mouth shut because he’d be too afraid I’d mention his offer, and we both knew my father well enough to know just how
that
would go over. Old friends don’t fuck other friends’ daughters. At least not without permission.

With a look that said
I know you’re up to something but I don’t know what,
Father shook his head. “Leave the man alone. They’re all a bunch of perverts. You know the city of Svartalfheim rests in the Subterranean Realms.”

“I’ve heard rumors about the entire city migrating back to Otherworld.”

“
Wonderful.
That’s just what we need. If they do, I’ll guarantee they’ll bring a host of demons swarming with them.”

“The demons can’t get through the portals,” I said. “They’re barred.”

“So they say, but I’m not too sure about that.” He grunted, then after a moment, cleared his throat. “Your sister Delilah needs to start dressing like a lady, at least for your aunt Olanda’s visit. Take her shopping. Get her out of trousers and tunics, please.” He gave me the once-over. “You’re fine. Menolly, too. But . . .”

“Delilah’s a tomboy and you know it,” I said, laughing. “Those dresses will last a couple of days and then you’ll never see them again. But yeah, I’ll add that to my to-do list.”

Father put down his sword and leaned back in his chair, crossing his right leg across his left. He was a handsome man, looking barely older than the three of us. Full-blooded Fae, he would age far slower than we until we drank the nectar of life. But that wouldn’t be for some time yet. We were forbidden to touch it for now.

It was easy to see why Mother had followed him home from Earthside. She’d fallen for him before he ever kissed her, before he told her he loved her, and they’d been devoted to each other, right until the end.

“Camille, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” Sephreh looked uncomfortable. “Your mother provided for you over Earthside. You have means there, should you ever need it. But here . . . I’ve put aside what I can for the three of you, but it isn’t much.”

I frowned. “What do you mean? You’re not sick, are you?” I slid down to his feet and rested my head against his knee, stabbed by a sudden fear. We couldn’t lose both of them.

He shook his head and patted my hair. “No, I haven’t taken ill. I’m talking about the fact that, by your age, girls normally start thinking about marriage and everything that comes with it—security, a title, convenience . . . I’m just not sure . . .”

“How well we’ll fare in that department?” As I spoke, he grimaced and I knew what was bugging him. “You’re afraid no one will marry us because we’re half-breeds?”

He jumped up, grabbed my shoulders, and lifted me to my feet. Tipping my chin up, he stared at me, his eyes flashing. “
Never call yourself that
. Never,
ever
demean yourself. You are half-human.
Your mother
was human and she was the most wonderful woman in the world. In either world. You will not be ashamed of your heritage. I’m not ashamed of you or your sisters.
I’m
proud of the three of you, and I know you do your best to make
me
proud. Do you understand?”

Shaken, I nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . what I meant was—if someone can’t handle our lineage, then they can go fuck themselves. None of us will ever marry a bigot. Besides,
I’m
never getting married. I like my freedom too much.” I grinned, trying to take the edge off his worry.

Father searched my eyes. After a moment, he laughed and kissed the top of my head. “You take after me, girl,” he said, returning to polishing his silver sword. “You prefer sex to breathing. Sometimes I wish you’d taken after your mother like Delilah. I think she’ll have an easier road to walk than you will. As for Menolly, it’s anybody’s guess.”

I was about to ask if he ever thought of remarrying but stopped myself. There were some places still too painful to tread.

2

THE next day, Menolly, Delilah, and I headed out for work together. Delilah was a few years younger than I, and her waist-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Tall—six foot one—she was so athletic she put me to shame. A real tomboy, she was in and out of trees like I was in and out of the shops. She was also a werecat and had a yowl that could wake the dead, especially during the nights leading up to the full moon.

Menolly, on the other hand, barely grazed my nose. Petite with a cloud of coppery curls that traced halfway down her back, she was the perfect acrobat. Well, almost perfect. We all had problems thanks to our half-human heritage.

My magic fritzed out at the most unexpected of times, and sometimes backfired in painful and embarrassing ways. Menolly could balance on her toes on a tightwire, but one short circuit and she’d go tumbling down the front steps. And Delilah shifted into tabby cat form, but she couldn’t always control when she made the transformation.

We weren’t the best employees the Y’Elestrial Intelligence Agency had, but they couldn’t say we weren’t loyal, or enthusiastic. Our father was a captain in the Guard Des’Estar. We’d joined the YIA to make him proud.

The YIA headquarters were in the palace. A monolithic tribute to overkill, the palace made me cringe. The architecture was beautiful, but thanks to the tastes of our queen, the whole effect came off as tacky.

Minarets jutted into the sky, their spires flying the flags of Y’Elestrial and Queen Lethesanar. Five flights of steps led up to the massive doors guarded by men strong enough to squash a goblin’s head with their bare hands. Paired with wizards, they kept an eye out for magical intruders.

We stopped at the doors to show our credentials, then hurried through the doors toward the wing reserved for the agency. Clerks and scribes scurried every which way, their arms filled with paperwork and scrolls and books. Every now and then another agent would rush by, waving on the fly. We crowded into the briefing room to pick up our notes and assignments for the day.

Menolly grimaced as she was handed a single sheet of paper. “I knew it. Damn it, I wish they’d get off their butts and give me some help.” She glanced around, making sure nobody was within earshot.

“Why bother whispering?” I snorted. “We’re being eavesdropped on anyway. There are plenty of spies around and I have no doubt our supervisors can hear everything we say. Today’s whine is tomorrow’s whipping stick.” I glanced at my own assignment sheet. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Delilah asked.

“My supervisor wants to see me. Again.” I crumpled the paper.

Menolly shook her head. “Better that than my day. They’ve got me scheduled to sneak directly into the heart of the Elwing Blood Clan’s nest. I’ve been putting it off, hoping they’ll give me some backup. The damned job’s just too dangerous to tackle alone. I think I can wrangle another couple weeks of research but after that . . . I’ll have to either cave or quit.”

“Maybe they think you’re the best choice for the job,” Delilah said, ever the optimist.

“Don’t bet on it,” I muttered. “I get the feeling they’re deliberately trying to trip us up. You know, force us to screw up so badly they can fire us. That way, we couldn’t lodge a complaint.”

“You really think they’re trying to get rid of us?” Delilah asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe. I do know that the assignment they’ve given me sucks. I’m supposed to find Roche, and all their leads are bogus. If I don’t find him soon, they’ll chalk up another failure on my record and absolve themselves of the problem.”

“You think they might be looking the other way since he’s a member of the Guard? Mother used to call it the good ol’ boy system.” Menolly was even more cynical than I was.

“I have no idea,” I said, stopping as we turned down the hall leading toward the Special Investigations Unit. “Look—what’s that?”

An unused wing of the unit was in the process of being furnished, and the movers were carrying in desks and chairs and an interesting supply of magical instruments. The placard on the wall next to the main office door read OIA.

“What the hell is the OIA?” I asked.

“I dunno,” Menolly said, brushing her hair back behind her ears. “All I know is that I didn’t get enough to eat at breakfast and as soon as we leave here, I’m heading down to the Naori Clipper to snag myself a bowl of chowder and a loaf of bread.”

I came to my stop and blew a kiss to my sisters. “Be good. I’ll see you for dinner. If you get home before I do, tell Cook to start roasting the chickens.” They waved as I opened the door and slipped inside Lathe’s office.

My supervisor was younger than me, and he was on a continual tear because I refused to fuck him. Even though he was cute, work and sex just weren’t a great combo, and besides that, I’d heard about his peculiar habits. I enjoyed kink but I didn’t enjoy pain and humiliation. Apparently, he was adept at both. So I danced around his advances and he kept giving me shit jobs. One of these days, I’d take it over his head, but that would cause a firestorm I just didn’t feel like weathering at this point.

“What the hell’s going on?” I said, marching into his office. He was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on the walnut desk. His clothing was meticulous, as usual. He narrowed his eyes and slowly lowered his feet, motioning for me to sit opposite him.

“You find Roche yet?” He was mocking me. He knew I hadn’t, and he knew that I wouldn’t be able to without some legitimate help.

“Roche still has friends in the Guard Des’Estar, friends who wouldn’t mind helping him even with the crimes he’s committed. For all I know, you’re in on this sham of an investigation.” I squinted, wondering how far I could push his buttons before he freaked. Not that I really cared, but I didn’t want to disappoint Father by getting myself fired.